


Bows That Bind Us

by DarkkBluee



Series: Thing's I'll probably never complete [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Harry is an idiot, M/M, accidental proposal, dueling etiquette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkkBluee/pseuds/DarkkBluee
Summary: Sam_Is_Sam's Prompt:In which Harry wasn't formally introduced to the intricacies of dueling etiquette, and might have accidentally propositioned the Dark Lord.





	Bows That Bind Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sam_is_Sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_is_Sam/gifts), [Arualiaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arualiaa/gifts), [DesertWaterfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertWaterfall/gifts), [RosieStarling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieStarling/gifts), [auspicium (latenightfangirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenightfangirl/gifts), [Run_of_the_mill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Run_of_the_mill/gifts).



> A result of my Live Writing on CoS Discord. I'll probably never finish this either, but it's written. It's not been Beta'ed, so minor grammar mistakes might be abound. 
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoy reading it ~

_Ministry of Magic, Department of Mysteries, Hall of Prophecies_ _  
_ _June 18, 1996_

 

“Don’t you want to know the secret of your scar?” Lucius Malfoy whispers and Harry’s tense, waiting for the right moment and knowing it’s going to come soon. Thus, he misses the warning signs. The slowly growing pain in his scar passes off as his body’s reaction to the impending violent confrontation, and Death Eater’s standing straighter are assumed to be readying themselves for the battle.

 

“He has waited fifteen years.” Harry says, trying to buy the time they desperately need. And his attempt is for naught, as a voice in his ear hisses.

 

“I have.” Harry turns, his wand raised and sees the Dark Lord. There, standing in green robes in between his friends and looking as monstrous as ever, is Voldemort. The man is utterly nonchalant even if he is currently surrounded by his opponents.

 

“Well, are you going to give it to me?” Voldemort raises a brow and Harry takes a step forward, pressing his wand tip to Voldemort’s heart.

 

“Why should I?” He asks, trying to suppress his rising panic. “I took it, it is mine.” He smirks, trying to sound condescending and take Voldemort’s attention away from his friends.

 

“Fair point.” Voldemort nods, looking surprisingly agreeable to the idea and Harry’s eyes widen in shock. “Then let us duel for it. You’re familiar with it, no? We did duel last year. I’m sure you recall the pain inflicted upon yourself during those times. I know I dream of it fondly.”

 

“And I got away. I dream of your public humiliation fondly too.” Harry laughs. “Fine let’s do this!” And he walks back, his wand leveled at Voldemort’s heart all the time. And bends into a sweeping bow, mocking him. “Well, do you require an invitation to bow too?”

 

Harry is surprised to see Voldemort’s eyes widened in shock and Lucius Malfoy, forgotten in the shadow of Voldemort’s overwhelming presence, coughs harshly. There is a dull clink of glass as the Death Eater’s surrounding them stumble back and whimper.

 

“Ron!” Harry can hear Neville whispering. “I am not sure if I am seeing this properly.”

 

“You’re seeing this properly, boy.” A man who looks remarkably similar to their classmate Theodore Nott, answers as he swallows. “I see it too.”

 

“Is this reality? Is this feeling dread or wonderment at the ridiculousness of the situation.” Neville asks as the usually meek Gryffindor pulls at Ron's robes frantically and whispers, _"did no one actually tell Harry about the etiquettes?"_

 

“I did not.” Ron answers back. “I thought Hermione did?”

 

“I thought Harry already knew. He was the one reading the duel tactics books.” Hermione’s reply rings loud and clear in the suddenly silent room.

 

“Ignorance is no excuse!” Another Death Eater pulls down his mask to reveal a pock-marked face and grey, greasy hair. He snarls, “This is exactly the reason we are against ignorant mudbloods coming into our world and acting like a drunk, left-footed jarvey. You don’t even consider the impact your actions have on us!”

 

“Why you!” Hermione sputters. “Our ignorance is because you bigots horde all relevant information like a Niffler hordes gold! If you lot were more open, then this wouldn’t have happened!”

 

“Blame it on us, would you?!” Another stocky Death Eater snaps. “If you were interested in knowing about our culture and traditions, then you should have come to us, the _natives_ , and asked us about it! But do you mudbloods do that? No! You just read some books and assume everything else with your _muggle sensibilities_.”

 

“Oi mate!” Ron temporizes. “Stop calling Hermione the ‘M’-word!”

 

“I will very well call her as I see her!” The Death Eater replies haughtily. “Her, and each and every _mudblood_ that -”

 

Harry ignores the loud, raging argument that has suddenly started around him. He is not sure what is going on, or if what he did was right or wrong. But it got them time, diverted attention from any possible violent fights and made it a fight using words. He can handle that. It’s no more than what he handles every summer at the Dursleys. Some Death Eaters and his friends arguing about what is the cause for the ignorance of muggle-raised wizards is easier to handle than Aunt Marge’s rants about his parents. This new direction, a fight of words rather than magic, encourages Harry to push forward and he takes another shot in the dark.

 

“Are you going to bow back or not?!” He snaps, still holding his bowed position. It was this question that initially stumped Voldemort and his minions. He’ll use the tried and tested question once more and hope for the best. He can only hope that Hermione isn’t as immersed in the argument as she looks. He's trying to find a way out, but hasn’t had much luck. Hermione is the only one he can rely on now. Ron, unfortunately, loses himself in arguments too much to be of any real help.

 

“Potter.” Lucius says desperately. “Take it back, Potter.” He literally begs and Harry is even more determined to press on and make Voldemort bow, plans to get out be damned.

 

“No.” He refuses Lucius’s words immediately. His eyes never leave the Dark Lord’s glistening red orbs as he says again, each word pronounced slowly and clear, “I want Tom Marvolo Riddle to bow to me.” Something sparks in those blood-red eyes, a challenge or an idea, Harry does not know. But maybe he has pushed a little too much on this bowing thing and needs to change the topic? He racks his brain to think of something, but then - !

 

Voldemort smirks and bows back, a sweeping bow similar to Harry’s own.

 

A loud wail, followed by a dull thud behind him is the only indication of Bellatrix Lestrange fainting on the floor.

 

“Oh dear.” Lucius sighs and Hermione hides her face in her hands. Ron chokes and Luna and Neville pat his back. Ginny opens her mouth, and then closes it wordlessly, trying and failing to find words to react to this situation.

 

“I nominate Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange to negotiate on my behalf.” Voldemort says softly as he stands back up. The Death Eater’s all lower their wands and step back as if allow the two their privacy. Hermione, taking the clue, rushes past Voldemort and grabs Harry’s shoulder with a claw-like grip.

 

“Stand up, Harry!” Hermione hisses. Harry shoots her a confused look even as Voldemort, surprise of all surprises, bursts into loud, open laughter. “Do not make this worse! Straighten up quickly!”

 

Harry straightens up, confused, but at least Hermione looks resigned, determined and in control. “Now, say you nominate me and-” her eyes wander over the rag-tag group of people they’ve brought with them to the Ministry, “- Neville to negotiate on your behalf. With more people to be nominated later.” He starts to protest, but shuts up under her glare.

 

“I nominate Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom to negotiate on my behalf, with more people to be nominated later.” He dutifully recounts and Voldemort nods.

 

“Very well. I demand that prophecy as my first gift and prize.” Voldemort points at the glass orb clenched in Harry’s hand and Harry cradles it closer.

 

“No-” Harry is cut off as Hermione elbows him. “ ‘Mione!” She glares at him balefully and he shrinks back. The trauma of Hermione’s glare and subsequent lecture for OWLs preparation is all too fresh in his mind.

 

“Harry ag-agrees.” Neville stammers out as he walks forwards, past Voldemort and stands besides him. He stumbles and hunches into himself as eyes turn to look at him doubtfully, but he continues on without pausing for breath. “But proposes to have the exchange handled at a later date. He requests to change to a different prize for now, to settle the agreement?”

 

“Very well.” Voldemort nods thoughtfully. “I demand information in exchange. The reason why our spells collided and a _Priori Incantatum_ took place between our wands.”

 

“As if I would-” Neville elbows him this time and Harry turns to level a betrayed look at him.

 

“Do you know, Harry? If you do, please answer him.” Neville pleads and he grudgingly agrees. “Lets just… Let’s just get this over with.” He begs and his brown eyes widen with tears filling them to the brim.

 

“Yeah, alright.” Harry says and sighs. “Our wands are brother wands. Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix, gave two Phoenix Features to Ollivander at the same time. Those are our wand cores.” He tells Voldemort and the man’s face clears as if stuck by a sudden enlightenment.

 

“Yes. That would do it.” Voldemort murmurs. He fixes his red eyes on the Boy Who Lived and smiles, triumphant and warm. “Consider our proposal signed, sealed and agreed upon. I will send word of our next meeting later. Rejoice, Harry Potter, for you are the only person who has dared to ask me and live to tell the tale. Do not make me regret my decision or else you will _live to regret it_.” He hisses and twists into smoke to apparate silently from the room.

 

Lucius Malfoy bends to hold the limp form of Bellatrix Lestrange in a fireman’s carry. Once securely held, he nods to the others and pulls down his mask. The Death Eaters nod back and cover their faces with a mask as well. They all apparate out in smoke with a crack.

 

“So, that just happened.” Ron mutters, finally coming out of his shock.

 

“How could you do this, Harry!” Ginny cries as she falls on her knees and Hermione sighs.

 

“Out of ignorance, that’s how.” She shakes her head. “Really, Harry. Just what _did_ you read in those duelling technique books?”

 

“Strategies and spells!” Harry replies absentmindedly, confused by his friend’s reactions. “Will anyone tell me what just happened?”

 

“You leveled your wand at Voldemort’s heart, bowed with respect, held your position and asked Voldemort to bow back thrice.” Neville explains faintly, as if the meaning should be obvious.

 

“You even used his real name for emphasis. There’s no way out now. The binding is as solid as it can be.” Hermione whispers. “And you even held your position after he bowed his agreement back, putting you firmly as the ‘obliged’ one, the one who gives away their hand and accepts for the act.”

 

“Yes, but can anyone just explain in plain, old English!” Harry snaps back, irritated by these nonsensical replies.

 

In this room-full of shock and confusion, Luna Lovegood skips forwards and pats Harry on the head.

 

“Congratulations on your up-coming nuptials with Lord Voldemort, Harry. He’s a strong, powerful, Dark Lord and the catch of the century. Dumbledore will be so jealous. Can I be your ring-holder?” She asks dreamily.

 

“WHAT!” Sirius shrieks as he emerges from white smoke from behind a near-by shelf. His shock results in a stumble and one after the other, the orbs all fall down. Like dominoes, all shelves follow the same pattern. He climbs over the fallen shelves and broken shards of glasses to hug Harry in a protective embrace. The hold is suffocating, his vision darkening around the edges, hands trembling and nerves still shot to insensitivity from the near-miss of impending violence but, Harry’s too shocked to react and ask Sirius for help and some personal space.

 

“Guys,” Nymphadora Tonks says in a warning tone as she gestures them to come closer. “Less talking, more moving. We need to get out of here before the Aurors show up.”

 

“But _you_ are an Auror.” Hermione points out and Tonks justs sighs.

 

“Before _other_ Aurors show up.” She grumbles and holds out a portkey rope. “Hold on to this. Come-on.”

 

The shocked group of students wordlessly grab a hold of the rope and leave the Hall of Prophecies where thousands of orbs continue falling and destroying hundreds of years of collection.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated ~


End file.
